Love and pain go hand in hand
by MuffledSpeech
Summary: It was dark and twisted and yet she kept coming back, needing to know who he once was and how he became a nightmare... Freddy/OC. Rated M for graphic violence, disturbing imagery, and explicit sexual content in later chapters.
1. It begins

**This chapter is rated T for violent themes.**

_**Italics**_** will mainly be used to express thoughts, but will also provide emphasis on certain words and occasionally show memories.**

* * *

Her room was hot. Increasingly, uncomfortably hot. Beads of sweat formed upon her pale skin as she tossed and turned under the much too warm covers, and she eventually tossed them aside, sighing from her interrupted sleep. _That damn air conditioner must be screwing up again_. As she sat up, 16 year old Emily opened her eyes to find herself not in her bedroom as she expected, but rather what seemed to be a boiler room. She glanced curiously about her, slowly getting off her bed. It appeared to be the only thing that traveled with her through the peculiar room change.

She brushed her honey blonde bangs off of her forehead and wiped the sweat from her brow, taking in the sight before her. It was definitely a boiler room. Numerous pipes and various machinery covered the walls, leaving a narrow walkway. A burst of steam erupted from a pipe to her left, causing her to jump at the sudden hissing noise. The air was humid, with the distinct smell of something burning to it. She crinkled her nose and took a hesitant step forward, cautious about her new surroundings.

There wasn't much light in the place. Only dim yellow beams from a small lamp mounted on the wall here and there. In the distance, however, a red haze bathed the area in an eerie glow. Emily made her way through the passage, careful not to bump into one of the steaming hot pipes at her sides. The path took a turn to the right, and she followed it as her heart fluttered nervously in her chest. She was dreaming, she was sure of it. How else could she be apparently teleported to this strange place? It was quite odd though. Generally in dreams, one doesn't smell things, and certainly not feel the humid air around her or the layer of sweat on her body.

It was a queer feeling indeed but it was only a dream, she reasoned, so why not explore? She continued down the corridor, her long white nightgown sticking to her perspiring skin. It felt as though the place was growing even hotter, if that was even possible. She stopped to fan herself pitifully with her hand. Suddenly, a sharp screeching noise came from behind her, a horrid sound of metal grinding against metal. She spun around, her green eyes darting quickly about, searching for the source. There was nothing. She breathed deeply, attempting to calm herself. It was an extremely unnerving sound. She felt a sense of dread form in the pit of her stomach, and suddenly she wasn't too interested in exploring anymore.

She backed away from where that wretched noise came from, stopping when she bumped into something. She froze. Whatever she just ran into was warm. And breathing. She could hear its quiet, almost inaudible breaths behind her, air blowing against the back of her neck. She shivered, certain that whoever it was, it was unpleasant. A low chuckle cut through the silence, its tone dark, almost like a growl.

"Wake up."

Emily awoke in a cold sweat as her alarm clock's shrill beeps filled her room. She fumbled to shut it off, still groggy with sleep. 7:00 AM. That cruel voice repeated itself in her head. _Who the hell was that?_ She shook herself and stood up. _Nevermind that. Time to get ready for school_. She got dressed, pulling on a loose-fitting tee shirt and plain blue jeans. After quickly brushing her teeth and putting her long blonde hair in a ponytail, she grabbed her backpack and hurried downstairs.

"Hello dear," her mother smiled as Emily trotted into the kitchen, and set down a plate of eggs and bacon.

Emily swiped a piece of bacon off the plate. "Good morning." She took a sip of orange juice from the small glass in front of her.

"Did you sleep well?"

Emily nodded. "I had a strange dream though."

Her mother's gray-blue eyes studied Emily's face. "Would you like to talk about it?"

Emily shook her head, popping the crunchy bit of bacon into her mouth. "It was nothing. I've got to get to school. Love you!"

And with that, she hurried out the front door, slinging her backpack over her shoulder. As she drove to school, she couldn't help but think about that dream. It had felt so real. And so... Dangerous.

As she pulled into a parking spot at Springwood High, she noticed her friends waving at her. Adam, a tall, lanky boy with curly brown hair and thick glasses had his arm loosely around Jennifer's shoulder, showing off a wide, goofy grin. Jennifer was smiling, her brilliantly white teeth flashing in contrast to her tanned skin. Her thick auburn hair hung in waves around her pretty face, stretching down to her elbows. Adam had always been a class clown of sorts, and Jennifer looked to be your typical beauty queen, but in reality was very sweet and down to earth.

The three had all been friends since sixth grade and were inseparable throughout the years. They were Juniors now, nearing the end of 11th grade. While Emily had never fit into any sort of clique, she was content with just being her normal, soft-spoken self around her friends. It didn't matter that they were really the only people she was close with at school. She didn't need tons of friends in order to feel like a "normal" teen. She appreciated the close bond they shared, and no amount of popularity could replace that.

She cut the engine off and climbed out of the car, slamming the door shut behind her and turning to wave at the two. "Jennifer, Adam!" she called out as she walked up to them.

"Hey Emily." Jennifer pulled her into a quick hug.

"Wassup?" Adam grinned.

Emily shrugged as they began walking into school. "Not much. Did you guys finish that science homework that Mr. Guerin assigned us over the weekend?"

"Of course," Jennifer replied as Adam shook his head.

"Aw dude. I completely forgot." He ran his fingers through his hair and sighed. "Old man is gonna freak."

Emily laughed. "This is the fourth time you've forgotten." She remarked. "He already isn't very fond of you. At least try to do the work."

Adam groaned. "But work is such a drag. I don't see why we have to do it."

Emily stopped at her locker. "I'll see you guys in 3rd period, alright?"

Jennifer waved, and Adam gave her a salute before they walked off. Emily turned to her locker, opening the small metal door and gathering a few textbooks from inside. She yawned slightly. It felt like it was going to be a long day.

* * *

She was sitting in the middle of 3rd period science. Mr. Guerin, their 60-something year old teacher was rambling on with some lecture. Emily had her notebook opened, pen ready to jot down what he was saying, but she found herself tuning him out. She felt so tired. She looked around the room. A few other students looked bored out of their minds as well, and Adam was slumped over his desk, his head resting on his arms. She yawned and felt her eyelids grow heavy. _Maybe just a quick nap…_

Her eyes snapped open at the familiar screech of metal against metal. The classroom was empty around her. Any trace of the other teens being there was gone. She stood up, an uneasy feeling settling in her stomach.

"Hello?" She timidly called out. She was met with nothing but silence. She slowly walked to the open doorway and peered down the hall to her left, then right. Empty. Where was everyone? Had the bell rung? Had she fallen asleep and the class already ended? Surely someone would've woken her. She took a few nervous steps down the hall to her left, then stopped when she heard the screech again. Emily shut her eyes tightly. This was another dream. It had to be. She would wake up any second now.

Her eyes opened again and she gasped. The school hallway around her had transformed into the boiler room from last night. She could feel the heat, smell the burnt air. It was all so vivid. She jumped as the metallic screech sounded again, this time in front of her. Her eyes, wide with fear, stared ahead as a shadow appeared around the corner. It looked to be in the shape of a man, wearing a hat. A fedora. The shadow grew larger as whoever it was came closer around the corner. She couldn't move. She felt rooted to the spot, staring at the fingers slowly wrapping themselves around a pole at the corner.

The figure, holding on to the pole, swung himself around to face her completely, standing several feet away, just grinning at her terrified expression. He wasn't tall, and certainly wasn't very tough looking. In fact, he seemed to be on the small side. But it was his stance. His demeanor. This aura of danger about him that made him look menacing. She couldn't make out any details about him, such as his facial features. But something caught her eye. On his right hand, he appeared to be holding four sharp metal blades.

Emily found herself unable to breathe as he slowly approached her. Sweat dripped down her face and she shook violently, not tearing her eyes away from the gleaming weapons coming closer. She let out a small squeak, much to the stranger's delight, and he chuckled darkly.

The nearer he got to her, the more details became clear. Emily covered her mouth with disgust and horror. The man's skin appeared to be horribly burnt and melted. It was a sick orange and brown color with slimy red patches of exposed flesh all over his face. His dry, cracked lips were turned up in a sadistic grin, exposing the crooked, rotten, yellowing teeth inside. He wore a frayed red and green sweater and dark, baggy pants along with heavy black work boots.

"Emily," His deep voice taunted her.

Emily finally found the strength in her legs again and spun around to run, crashing face first into his chest. She screamed, bewildered at his sudden change in position. She turned back around to run the other way but found a solid metal wall blocking the path. _That wasn't there before!_ Her heart hammered in her chest as he laughed behind her.

"Nowhere to run, little piggy."

Emily quickly turned to look at him and backed away as far as she could until she hit the wall behind her. He was right. She was trapped. The man raised his right hand in the air, and she noticed rather than merely holding the blades, they were actually attached to a dirty brown glove on his hand. He flexed his fingers, causing the blades to make a loud clinking sound. She whimpered at the sight and shut her eyes, preparing for the pain.

Nothing happened.

Several seconds went by and yet she didn't feel the knives make contact. Cautiously, she opened her eyes. The space in front of her was empty. She breathed a sigh of relief. He had disappeared. She took a step forward, then suddenly felt her body being thrown against the wall. She hissed at the pain in her back, but was cut short when the man appeared inches away from her face. _Where did he come from?!_ His icy blue eyes bore into hers, seemingly looking through her into her very soul. Up close like this, she could smell the horrible aroma of melted flesh and his foul breath as it washed across her face. She almost gagged. His burnt lips twisted into another grin, and he reached up with the index blade of his glove to slowly trace along her cheek, grinning wider when she recoiled at the touch.

"Such a pretty young thing," He murmured. "I bet you'll look even prettier covered in your own blood."

With a flick of his blade, he made a thin cut upon her right cheek, catching her off guard. She screamed, feeling hot red liquid trickle down her face. He began laughing heartily, the sound echoing in her ears as she was jolted awake.

"Emily! Wake up! Wake up!"

Emily sat upright in her desk, looking wildly around her. Jennifer was shaking her, and Adam was standing next to her with a worried expression. There was a small crowd of students gathered around her desk. Emily breathed heavily, willing her heart rate to go back to normal, and heaved a sigh of relief. It was a dream. A horrible, horrible dream. As she suspected.

"Miss Douglas, are you alright?" Mr. Guerin stood with his hand on her shoulder, a concerned look on his aged face.

Emily nodded quickly. "Y-yeah. I just… Had a bad dream."

"You know you are not permitted to sleep in my class, Miss Douglas."

She smiled weakly up at him. "I know, I'm sorry."

He crossed his arms. "Very well. Do you need to go to the nurse?"

"No."

He gazed worriedly at her. "Are you sure? You've got a nasty cut."

Her eyes widened as she reached up to touch her cheek. When she pulled her fingers away, there was blood on them.


	2. The chase is on

**This chapter is rated T for mild violent themes.**

**As before, ****_italics _****will be used mostly to show thoughts, although will occasionally provide emphasis on certain words or show a memory.**

* * *

Emily sat in the nurse's office in a daze. It had felt so real when he cut her. The pain of it. The blood trickling down her cheek. And then to wake up and still have the blood there, _really there_, the sting of the cut fresh on her skin… It was unreal. Her mind was working to make sense of it but no logical explanation came to her. It seemed she had closed her eyes for a second in a moment of classroom boredom and she somehow ended up with a real injury. Physical evidence of her dream. She just couldn't wrap her head around the idea.

"Alright dear, you're alright. The cut isn't too deep," the nurse, Mrs. Dunn, smiled at her with a warm, motherly charm. "What happened in there, anyways?"

Emily frowned, unsure of how to answer. "I uh, I suppose I must've accidentally cut myself in my sleep….Somehow.." she mumbled quietly.

Mrs. Dunn whistled, glancing at the young girl's cheek again. "You should really cut your fingernails, hon."

"Can I just go home," Emily sighed, "I don't feel well."

The older woman offered her a sympathetic smile. "Of course, let me call your mother."

She turned to her desk and picked up the phone to dial the number as Jennifer peered into the room. She had Emily's backpack in her hands, and she held an expression of concern for her friend. "You forgot your bag… Are you okay?"

Emily tucked a loose strand of blonde hair behind her ear and nodded, sighing again. "Yeah."

"You kinda freaked out on everyone." Jennifer's brown eyes studied her face as she dropped the backpack on the floor next to her.

She gave her a half smile, replying "I must've looked crazy huh?"

Her friend laughed. "Totally crazy."

* * *

Emily stared at herself in the mirror of her vanity. The cut wasn't drastic. It had faded to a thin pink line. But it still unnerved her. She ran her fingers along it, wide eyes gazing incredulously for several moments, then sighed. She had to get over this. There was obviously an explanation for it. Most likely it was a result of her own accidental contact with the desk edge or her nails, not because of some mysterious man in her dream. Things like that just didn't happen. It wasn't logical. She turned and collapsed onto her bed with another heavy sigh, drifting to sleep in a matter of minutes.

She was in the same room yet again. The boiler room, basked in an orange-ish, red haze. Steam rising up and bringing humidity to the stale air. She inwardly kicked herself for falling asleep in her school clothes as she felt beads of sweat begin to form on her heated skin covered in the constricting clothing. She knew it was a bad idea to explore the potentially dangerous surroundings, but she felt her feet moving of their own accord. It was as if she was in a trance, something compelling her to move forward despite her fear of the man that lurked in the corners. _Why do I keep dreaming of this place_, she thought to herself. _And why does this guy want to hurt me?_

A low chuckle sounded behind her, bouncing off the walls of the otherwise empty place.

She felt her heart pick up its pace, and the familiar feeling of dread tightening in her gut. He was here. Slowly, she turned to face him. His hat was tipped low on his brow, casting a shadow over his features. Only his cruel grin was apparent. His right hand reached out and he ran his fingertips along the metal bar beside him, creating a high-pitched screech.

Emily covered her ears at the awful sound. "L-leave me alone!" She trembled with fear.

He released another throaty chuckle, and then leapt towards her. She screamed and took off in the opposite direction, pumping her long legs as hard as she could to get away from the nightmarish man chasing her. She could hear him continuing to laugh as she raced through the twists and turns. Risking a quick glance over her shoulder, it became clear that he was gaining on her. Fast. Letting out another terrified scream, she turned the corner and approached a large metal door. _A way out!_ Emily grasped the handle, wrenching it open and running through.

She slammed the door shut behind her and pressed against it with all her might, crying as the man ran into it over and over, trying to force it open. She couldn't hold him off much longer. He was obviously stronger. However, the other side suddenly fell silent and she ceased to feel his attempts at breaking the door down. She remained still for several moments, waiting for any sign that he was still there. When nothing happened, she slowly straightened and gazed at her new surroundings.

The door had led her outside as she hoped. It was nighttime, and the pale light of the moon washed over her as she took a step forward. She was standing in a dark alleyway between two dark houses. It was quiet. Not even the faint sound of crickets chirping in the grass met her ears. She realized she was still dreaming of course, so that strangeness was not completely unexpected. But she had escaped him. _Shouldn't I wake up now?_

A sudden crash behind her caused her to jump, and she turned to notice it was only a trashcan that had toppled over. She breathed deeply. _Calm down. It's nothing…_ _Nothing is there._

As if reading her thoughts, she heard a low voice behind her answer,"Except me."

A startled scream escaped her lips and she spun around in time to see the man pounce on her, pinning her against the brick wall of the house to her right. His left hand found her throat and squeezed, while his right hand, tipped with claws, hovered dangerously in front of her face. She struggled in his grasp as he constricted her windpipe, cutting off her air supply. Tears dripped down her cheeks and onto his arm, which he quickly licked up with his disgusting tongue. "Why," was all she could choke out.

Her question seemed to amuse him, and he stopped and sneered at her. "Because it's fun."

With that he released his grip on her, and she slid down to the ground, pulling her knees up to her chest. She took in a much needed gulp of air and stared at him through watering eyes. "You're… You're going to kill me, aren't you?"

"Eventually."

"Oh."

It was the only response she could come up with after being told in all honesty that he was going to murder her at some point, only because, as he stated, it was _fun_ to him. After thinking for a moment, she took a shaky breath and asked, "Who… Who are you? _What_ are you?"

He tipped his hat, smiling that horrid smile, and with a gleeful tone he announced, "Fred Krueger, at your service. Tell your friends!"

The name seemed familiar. She couldn't quite put her finger on it, but she was sure she had heard it somewhere before. Her green eyes went to his gloved hand, taking in the gleaming knives. "Why eventually?"

He tilted his head.

"I mean," she swallowed nervously. "Why not just do it now? If you want to kill me, why stand here and talk to me first?"

The question again seemed to amuse him, and he leaned against the wall casually. "Never had someone ask me that before." He studied her for a moment, then laughed. "You're going to be interesting."

Emily sat up in bed and glanced at the clock on her bedside table. 2 AM. Sitting there, she could still faintly smell the scent of his seared flesh and feel the ghost of his strong hand as it crushed her neck. Her mind played their conversation over again.

_"You're… You're going to kill me, aren't you?"_

_ "Eventually."_

She shuddered. _Who IS Fred Krueger?_


	3. Re-living the past

**This chapter is rated M for language and sexual themes.**

* * *

It was a warm, sunny morning, and Emily had the day off from school. She should've been in a cheery mood, but as she sat at the table poking her breakfast half-heartedly with her fork, she was anything but relaxed. Her brow furrowed, showing she was deep in thought. _Fred Krueger… Fred Krueger… Where have I heard that name before?_

Dianne, her mother, studied Emily as she took a sip of her coffee. It was obvious something was on the teenager's mind. "Is something bothering you, dear?"

Her voice interrupted Emily's thoughts, and she looked up at her with a small smile. "No mom."

What else could she do? Admit to her mother that she was having vivid dreams about some burnt guy who was dead set on killing her? She'd have her locked up for sure.

Her mom nodded slowly, sure that there was something her daughter wasn't telling her, but decided to let it go. "Alright. Just know that you can talk to me if you need to."

"I think I'm just going to go up to my room. I'm not very hungry."

Dianne's concerned eyes followed her as she climbed the stairs and disappeared around the corner.

Once inside her bedroom, Emily grabbed her laptop and settled down on her bed. She turned it on and went onto the internet. She clicked on Google and typed in _'Fred Krueger'_ into the search engine. No results. Surely there had to be _SOMETHING_ about this guy! She sighed and typed in _'man trying to kill me in my dreams.'_ The first result led to a forum for discussing dreams. One of the entries was titled **'Has anyone else seen him?'** Curious, she clicked on it and began to read.

**I keep having these dreams… About a man. He looks really horribly burnt, and has these… claws on his right hand. And every time I see him he's trying to kill me. Does anyone know the meaning of this? Has anyone SEEN this…?**

There were no responses, and no other mention of it anywhere else on the site. Emily frowned. The description given fit Fred Krueger. It was possible that person could've had the same dream she did. But it seemed so odd for people to share a dream. The logical part of her brain insisted it couldn't be the same killer she dreamt of, but then again, he had actually cut her. There was no explanation for that. Perhaps this was the same deal. She went back and looked at the web results again, and clicked on the next one. It led her to some horror site with an article on urban legends. One of the legends listed said,

**A man who supposedly stalks you in your dreams, and if he kills you in the dream, you die for real.**

It didn't give much of an explanation, but it certainly sounded like the nightmarish man. Again, she felt like she knew his name but she still couldn't quite remember where she heard it before. Her curiosity was starting to get the best of her, and she couldn't help but feel this strong urge to find out why he was doing this. And why had typing Fred Krueger into the search bar provide nothing if it was obvious that others knew of him? She had to find answers.

* * *

She was reluctant to fall asleep, but after pondering whether or not she should stay up all night, she finally gave up and went to bed. She was scared, of course. But she knew she couldn't just stay up for days when she had finals coming up soon. She would just eventually crash anyways. Besides, he had told her that he would _eventually_ kill her. That gave her some hope that he wouldn't do it that night. As she looked around now, she could sense she was dreaming. She stood once again bathed in moonlight, the street cold and damp beneath her bare feet. She was relieved she wasn't in the boiler room again, but the scene in front of her wasn't much better.

She was facing a crumbling old house. Its faded white walls were covered in overgrown vines. Rotting planks of wood were boarded up over the windows. The dark green roof looked as if it was going to cave in at any moment. It had once been a nice house, that much was clear by how large it was and how elegant the white pillars looked as they held up the small roof over the front porch. But the memory of its splendor was buried under decades of abandonment.

Despite the overall creepiness of the house itself, the most unnerving part of the whole thing was the children. Three little girls, dressed in frilly white dresses and stockings, sang as they twirled a jump rope.

_One, two, Freddy's coming for you_

Their round little faces were pale, haunting smiles stretching across their cheeks.

_Three, four, better lock your door_

The one in the middle giggled in between verses, jumping happily.

_Five, six, grab the crucifix _

None of them turned, none of them acknowledged her presence as she watched them sing.

_Seven, eight, better stay up late_

_Nine, ten, never sleep again…_

Emily shivered, the chilling song setting deep into her bones and causing fear to bubble up inside her. They couldn't be older than 8 or 9, playing so innocently in the yard, and yet they sang such horrid lyrics, almost as if they were warning her of danger. They began to sing it over again, not stopping in their play. Emily supposed she ought to enter the house since there was nowhere to go but wander the street aimlessly, and she quickly made her way past the kids. The house loomed menacingly over her as she approached. She swallowed nervously and walked up the steps toward the blood red door. Taking one last look behind her, she sighed and turned the doorknob.

It creaked open slowly, allowing her to step inside. Immediately she was greeted by the cold air, and she wrapped her arms around herself as her eyes adjusted to the darkness. The place was wrecked. Floorboards were weak and broken, paint was peeling off the walls, what little furniture left was covered in a thick layer of dust, and the air was unbelievably musty. She wandered down the hallway, listening for any signs that he was there. She could still faintly hear the children singing outside and she absentmindedly wondered if they were stuck doing that forever, simply to be creepy to whoever stumbled into this mess.

"They are lovely aren't they?"

Emily yelped in surprise at his sudden voice so close to her ear, and she jumped back to notice him standing there, leaning casually against the wall.

"Jesus, do you have to show up like that every fucking time I come here?"

He grinned, shaking one of his bladed fingers at her mockingly. "Such language. What would your mommy say?"

"She doesn't mind."

"Oh, really? No discipline. Maybe someone should teach you how to _behave_."

She gasped as the walls shifted around her, morphing into the living room of her old home. Her eyes were wide with fear, and she spun around at the familiar surroundings from her past. _The last time I was here… 8 years old…_

She nearly choked on her spit at the sound of the front door opening and slamming shut, followed by a manly grunt. _No…_

"I'm home." That rough voice she hadn't heard in eight years.

_Please, god, no._

Her face paled, and she had to suck in a harsh breath of air to keep from crying out in horror. Her father, tall and overweight, his thick white beard covering his pudgy neck, those steel blue eyes filled with such anger… He was standing in front of her in the middle of her childhood home and it was like she was right there again, a frightened little girl. Tears were threatening to escape and she tensely stood, rooted at the spot, just staring at the man she had escaped so many years ago.

"Didn't you hear me? I said I'm home." He glared at her. "Get your ass over here and give me a kiss hello."

He didn't say the words in a playful or joking way. He said them in a do-what-I-tell-you-to-right-fucking-now-or-I'll-hurt-you kind of way. Emily shook her head slowly. "N-no, daddy, I don't want to.."

"What did you say?" His large hands clenched into fists.

Her eyes watered. "Please, don't make me."

His face grew red, the vein in his neck bulging. "_You do what you're told you little brat!_" He strode towards her and grabbed the sides of her face in both hands, pulling her into a bruising kiss. Her arms flailed, struggling to get away, but he held her tighter. She sobbed openly now. She could taste his foul tongue as it forced its way into her mouth. She could smell his body odor. All those memories from long ago she had worked so hard to push down… Only to have the wounds ripped open again.

He released her only to slap her across the face, knocking her to the floor. He leaned down and gripped her by her hair and began dragging her down the hallway. She was screaming, her vision blurred with tears, and she desperately clawed at the walls to stop herself from going where she knew he was headed. He kicked the door open at the end of the hall and threw her inside. _His bedroom. No… NO.._

He sneered as he stood over her, and began to unbuckle his belt.

Her eyes widened in absolute terror and she screamed and crawled backwards away from him. "Daddy no please no no no no not again!"

She covered her eyes and sobbed as the unmistakable sound of his zipper being undone filled the air.

A familiar chuckle reached her ears and she hesitantly opened her eyes. Freddy was standing in her father's place with a smirk playing on his burnt lips. She stared at him in shock before jumping up and shoving him in a sudden fit of rage, not caring about his deadly weapons. "You asshole! _I'll kill you!"_

He recovered quickly and growled, pinning her to the wall and slashing across the skin at her stomach. She cried out in pain but glared at him, feeling her fear drain away to be replaced with fury. She struggled as hard as she could but eventually realized she couldn't get out of his strong grasp and instead spit in his face.

"You little bitch." He wiped it off with his sleeve.

Her green eyes were on fire with hatred and kept her gaze steady even as she faded out of the dream world.

Emily woke up to find herself drenched in sweat and blood. She groaned at the pain coming from the fresh cuts on her stomach and headed to the bathroom to clean herself up. _How did he see my memories and create that nightmare… Why is he torturing me like this? _


	4. Bravery

**This chapter is rated T for language and mild violence.**

* * *

"Hey you okay?"

Emily looked over at Jennifer and nodded, then returned to staring at nothing in particular. The cafeteria was buzzing with conversation and laughter but she hardly noticed. The only thing on her mind was that horrifying dream from last night and the cuts now bandaged tightly across her stomach. She hadn't even bothered to buy lunch. She couldn't possibly eat. No matter how many times she brushed, she couldn't get the taste of_ him_ out of her mouth.

"Emily, you don't look so good…" Her friend's worried voice cut through her thoughts and she sighed.

"I just had a bad dream last night."

Adam swallowed a bite of his turkey sandwich. "Dude those things suck. I had this wicked scary one the other day too. Some creep with knives on his hand was chasing me."

Emily's eyes snapped up to meet his. "What?"

"I dunno. It was weird. He almost got me but I kicked him in the balls and woke myself up." He grinned proudly at this and took another bite before asking, "So what did you dream about?"

Emily shivered. "Just… My dad…" She left out the part about Freddy, knowing he wouldn't believe her if she said she dreamt the same thing.

Jennifer put her arm around Emily's shoulder, saying "Aw, I'm sorry. That must have been awful."

Adam frowned. "And here I am talking about some unimportant monster shit. Ugh, I'm a dick."

They both knew about her past with her abusive father and were extremely understanding and supportive. She hated to talk about it but when she did, it was nice to have friends that cared. _He's in jail. He's gone. But how did it feel so real in the dream?_

* * *

Emily felt a burning hatred for the stalker in her dreams but she was desperate for answers. Why target her? Why target _anyone_ for that matter? She'd casually asked her mother if she had heard of his name but all she got in response was a very quick _no_ and she'd left the room in haste. It seemed she was definitely hiding something, although what that something was remained a mystery.

Before she went to bed that night, she made a point to grab one of the kitchen knives to take with her. It wasn't likely he could be hurt since he obviously couldn't be _alive_ but she wanted protection nonetheless. After gathering her courage and tossing and turning under the covers for a while, she finally fell asleep.

* * *

Her eyes opened and she found herself once again on her bed in the middle of the boiler room. She still grasped the knife in her hands, which brought her a little relief. She took several deep breaths and settled back against her headboard, calling out "I'm not playing into this. I'm staying right here on this bed, Krueger."

The bed burst into flames by her feet.

"God damnit," she groaned and jumped off. "I'm not in the mood for this. Come get me if you're going to, otherwise leave me alone."

He materialized a few feet away from her, and she raised her knife in defense.

"My, what a feisty little bitch we are today, hm?" He was grinning, not at all threatened by her weapon.

She glared back at him. "What do you want from me?"

He took a few steps toward her. "Your fear."

"Well good luck with that, because I'm not scared of you."

"The way you're shaking like that shows otherwise."

_Fuck._ He saw right through her bluff. She concentrated on steadying herself, gripping the knife tighter in her hand. "I'm not scared of you," she repeated firmly.

His grin widened. "You're pretty scared of your daddy though aren't you?" As soon as the words left his disgusting mouth, he transformed into a perfect replica of her father once again.

She shuddered and shut her eyes tightly. "You're not my dad."

His hands were suddenly on her. "What did you say, bitch?"

"_I said you're not my father!_" Without hesitating, she plunged the knife deep into his neck.

He stumbled back a few steps, but to her horror, he began to laugh. She stared, wide-eyed, as he morphed back into Freddy. He pulled the knife out and threw it to the floor, not breaking eye contact with her. Green slime oozed from the wound and yet he paid no attention to it. He seriously did not care if he was hurt. He didn't feel pain. How does one fight somebody like that?

"What… Are you…" She gazed at him in horror.

He vanished and then appeared again, inches away from her face. "Your worst nightmare," he sneered.

Her eyes went to the knife, out of her reach. Not that it would help anyways. She forced herself to look at him, straight into his cruel eyes. "Why are you like this?"

He stared at her, and then barked a short laugh. "I'm standing here, able to kill you at any moment, and _you're asking me why I'm like this?"_

She could only nod.

His smile fell, and a look of pure hatred crossed his features. "Let's just say it's revenge."

"But I've done nothing to you."

He rolled his eyes. "It wasn't you, you stupid cunt. It was the parents."

Her brow furrowed in confusion.

"Ugh," he turned around and began walking away. "I'm not here to explain everything to you." He stopped and looked over his shoulder. "Ask your mommy."

"I did. She didn't tell me anything."

He snorted. "Figures."

And with that, she was pushed out of the dream world.


End file.
